Devoid of Color
by spikeyhairgood
Summary: And now I'm covered in the colors, pulled apart at the seams. One-shot. AU, AH. Inspired and based on "Colors" by Halsey.


**Description:** And now I'm covered in the colors, pulled apart at the seams. One-shot. AU, AH. Inspired and based on "Colors" by Halsey.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the story I've put the characters in, and all rights go to Halsey for wonderful Colors.

* * *

 _You're dripping like a saturated sunrise._

 _You're spilling like an overflowing sink._

 _You're ripped at every edge but you're a masterpiece._

 _And now you're tearing through the pages and the ink._

I met Jace Wayland on September 8th. It was my first day at a new school. I was a junior, and the only plus was that I started school on their first day. He was a senior, and there wasn't a soul who didn't know who he was. The weather had already made the transition from the haziness of summer to crisp autumn. The world seemed calmer. There was that distinct difference in the weather, and you could _feel_ that things were about to change. And, for me, this wasn't only due to the weather. After my mother got remarried, I was potentially starting a new life—in every way possible. And Jace Wayland was the catalyst for that.

He was a mess. And, with him, I became one too.

He was in half of my classes—if you count lunch as a class—but I had to see him, so it counts for me. The thing about going to a private school in Vermont is that it is going to be small. So everyone knew everyone. And nobody knew me. But everyone noticed me. Especially Jace Wayland. He had the kind of stare that made you feel like you were the only one in the room. His eyes conveyed everything—annoyance, amusement, glee, anger, intrigue. If he was feeling something, it showed through his eyes. Even though he truly believed that he couldn't be read. But I could read him. So when he stared at me in every class during that first day, I didn't feel my knees buckling under his gaze just like everyone else did—I felt annoyed, violated, and for some reason, vulnerable. Like he could see through me as much as I could through him. And I wanted to punch him in the face for it. And I almost did when he blocked me from getting into my last class of the day.

His arm blocked the doorway, and he almost clotheslined me. I rolled my eyes so hard that they could've gotten stuck up there. My gaze went upwards as he looked down at me with a smirk, amusement in his eyes. I almost outwardly sighed. "Hey, new girl."

"Hi." I reached up and pulled his arm down, forcing myself past him. I groaned outwardly when I heard him laugh. He fell into the seat beside me and continued to be obnoxious.

"What's your name?" I made a face and stared forward. "Not that I need you to tell me. I've heard you introduce yourself in the other four classes we share together." He lifted his chin up. " _Clarissa."_

I hated how he said my name. I finally looked over at him. "Are you the Tristan of the school?" I smiled a little at my _Gilmore Girls_ reference.

And the smile quickly fell when he replied, "I don't know. Am I, _Mary_?"

"Do you say everyone's name like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like it's italicized."

He glanced down, trying not to laugh. "Only if I'm undressing them with my eyes."

I gulped, even though I tried to hide it. "Well, that's interesting, because that's how you said our English teacher's name when you walked in twenty minutes late."

He shrugged a little. "I like middle-aged balding men. Is that a crime?"

I glared a little. This was exhausting.

"Right." I pursed my lips and turned forward.

"Giving up so easily with our little banter? It's been the best part about my day." He leaned back on the chair, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I have a feeling you'll be annoying me for the rest of the year, so why tire ourselves out now?" I mumbled and when he was silent, I looked over.

He was staring at me again. In a way that showed more than amusement. "Well, that's true." He dropped his bag down. "Guess this'll be my seat, then. I'd like to end every single weekday with you." I turned forward and resisted the urge to throw my backpack in his face. " _Clarissa_."

* * *

For some awful reason, Jace began to sit next to me in every class—which, I might add, wasn't great for me, because every girl in school loathed me for it. And we always got paired up with one another for projects—or, well, anything, really. I was convinced that he paid every single teacher.

And, with every passing day, I learned more about him. He was adopted. And his adoptive family was filthy rich. His sister was _the_ most popular girl in school, and the only one who didn't glare at me. But she also didn't speak to me, either. Actually, everyone in school was filthy rich. As was my new step-father. Jace played soccer. He played basketball. He played hockey. He attended parties every weekend. The only reason he passed his classes was because he was brilliant. And because his parents donated to the school.

When my irritation with his obnoxious personality faded, we became acquaintances. I laughed at his jokes, and he laughed at all my curt comments. We nodded at each other in the hallways, and, when he was with his friends, he'd throw a flirty comment at me and I'd stick my middle finger up to him.

And then we became friends. Friends who slowly started to talk about things that actually mattered. Like how my mom was so busy with her new life with Luke that she paid almost no attention to me—something I didn't mind, because I knew she was happy. And he told me that he never really understood why the Lightwoods adopted him if they never paid attention to their children.

And, quickly after that, we went from friends who ended our days talking to each other on the phone, to friends who hung out after school every day, to friends who made out on my couch, to friends who fucked in his room, to friends who spent every night with one another because he climbed through my window every night and left right as the sun broke through the darkness in the morning. And then we became friends who weren't really friends at all, because we somehow became a couple without knowing exactly how it happened.

Everyone wondered why he chose _me_. And those who weren't wondering that wondered why I chose to be with _him._ He was an asshole to everyone. But not to me.

I willingly loved a boy who asked me not to. I willingly tried to save a boy from his own mind after he told me that it was impossible. And I _drowned_ in him. With no life vest, not even trying to save myself. I _wanted_ to drown in him. And that is exactly what I did.

* * *

And because I drowned in him, I followed his lifestyle. His life of being out all the time, of not giving a fuck over the expensive education my mother and stepdad were paying for. He helped me cover those days I didn't make it into class. Apparently his parents paying his way through school was beneficial to anyone he dated exclusively. I smoked the weed he smoked. I took the drugs he took. I drank the same amount of alcohol he did, and threw it all up at the same time he did. I got wrapped up in the way that he seemed to be changing his ways for me. I got lost in the fact that everyone told me they had never seen him this way. I ignored the fact that Isabelle warned me about him, and, when I asked if she was just worried I would hurt him, she smiled and replied sadly that _she knew her brother_.

We became one.

And it was the worst fucking mistake I've ever made. Because the moment that I felt I couldn't have possibly loved him any more than I did, he disappeared. And I didn't see it coming at all. It was as if he woke up that morning he told me to _stay away from him_ and just decided that we longer could be. It completely erased the moment from the night before when he mumbled in a drunken haze that he _was pretty sure that he loved me_.

But, after that morning, he would no longer talk to me, no longer even glance at me.

In all the ways he shined, the way he was the fucking sunshine that stood out in the bland classrooms of that private school in Vermont—he became the complete opposite. In every single aspect. His brilliance turned into indifference. And everything that everyone thought was beautiful about Jace Wayland became excessive and turned him into the complete opposite.

And I fell into an emotionless void for months as he spiraled down. While I reeled for months over our relationship, or whatever it was, there was only thing I kept remembering. As toxic as he was from the moment I met him, he was beautiful. But beautiful things can become toxic. Nothing was never certain. Not even a person's light. Because nobody ever saw that now.

Three months before the end of the school year, a couple weeks after I went on a date and Jace came out of nowhere to punch the guy in the face—the only time he made eye contact with me since we broke up— Isabelle cornered me in a hallway asking me to talk to him. She said that I knew it was no secret, but Jace was close to overdosing every weekend, that he barely went to school, and that their parent's money couldn't save him any longer. And she saw my point when I told her he wouldn't even look at me. I told her I wish I could've helped, then or now, but she smiled that same sad smile and said _she knew her brother_.

I could feel all eyes on me the morning after Jace was sent to rehab. Maybe they blamed me the same way I blamed myself. Maybe they couldn't pinpoint the reason why they blamed me either. The only reason didn't make sense, and that reason was that maybe he did care about me. That maybe I was the closest to getting close to Jace. And that enough was a reason for him to drown in everything he was. Because he was someone who never wanted attachments. And he ruined all of those on his way down.

He sent me a letter the day he was supposed to graduate. He said that he couldn't explain it at all, and that he was trying to understand himself while away. He said that if anyone was going to save him, then it would've been me. And that he never thanked me for trying. And that this was his thanks. And I wrote him back saying that I believed in him, and he never replied. I guess I'll always be waiting for him to reach out again. I guess I'll always be wanting to save him. I guess I'll always be waiting for that next moment to drown in him so maybe I could pull us both out of his own mind.

* * *

And he is the only thing on my mind as I sit in the cafeteria, staring at the wall, imagining only our memories that never felt real in the first place. It's the first day of my senior year. I spent the summer retaking all the classes I failed last year, with my mother's watchful eye on my every move. I could feel all the eyes on me, while they were probably thinking: _That's Clary Fray. She dated Jace Wayland before he went to rehab._ Or something along those lines. Something about it being insane. Something about _us_ being insane. I stood up, grabbing my things when the first bell rang. Everyone scrambled around me to make sure they weren't late on their first day, while I slowly walked through the halls.

I don't know if he loved me as much as I did him. I want to believe he did. A part of me is so sure. But a part also knows that he isn't sure of anything. But maybe I could've been the one thing he was. It doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of it all. I loved him. Unbearably. And even if he didn't, he had me convinced enough. Maybe it was my want to save him. Or my want for him to be who he could've been.

He was destined for greatness with no desire to be great.

He lost his mind that year, and I was just never sure if I was a part of that. And, somehow, even if it was awful and has potentially fucked me for the rest of my life—it was worth it. _He_ was worth it. And, because of that, I guess I learned nothing at all.

* * *

 **A/N:** Helloo. Okay, so this isn't an update for any of my other stories but I wanted to say here that life has been too busy, and I haven't been able to get my mind out of writer's block. I wrote this one-shot 3 weeks ago, and nothing since :( and I wasn't even sure if I was going to post it at all because I was nervous about putting my first first-person TMI story out there. Please know that I haven't given up on my other stories. I'm still going to continue them.

Sadly there will be no continuation for this one-shot but I really would love to hear your thoughts on what you think happened after/if you think his love was real for her. **Let me know what you think! Review & feedback, please** :)

Shout out to **rippingbutterflywings** for beta'ing this and for being a wonderful Asshole Niece. Shout out to **DeathCabForMari** for telling me "You better share this with the world" and for just enjoying this story so much.


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